The time has finally come. Tonight is the night when the stars will align, and a giant ray of light will fall down upon humanity, warming our cold hearts and filling us all with a peace and satisfaction that has heretofore been absent. In other words, tonight is the night we get to find out who cheated on Project Runway. (If you don't watch this show, I feel so sorry for you.) There has already been a nauseating amount of speculation on who the cheater is, so I'm not going to talk about that. But I can't think of a better time to talk about the insanity that is the Project Runway Store. You're familiar with this place, right? Probably go there everyday. You can buy Project Runway t-shirts there, and Project Runway bobbleheads, and even Project Runway scissors and sewing machines, all of which is fine (though why you'd spend $1900 on an appliance just because Bravo allows you to kind of baffles me). But what I really don't understand are the Runway Auctions, or, more specifically why someone would battle to spend $80 on this

(That's a dress made out of a duvet and that stuff found under carpets.) or $230 on this

(Michael's dress made entirely of coffee filters.) or $460 on this

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(an unfinished dress that looks like a tree trunk.) I mean, the coffee filters look cool, and a dress that finally combines the best parts about wearing a bed AND a carpet is a terrific novelty, but what are you going to do with it? (Wearing it, by the way, probably isn't an option given that each dress is "tailored to fit the model, sized 0 to 2 and anywhere from 5'10" to 6'2"." Unless models account for 100% of Bravotv.com customers.) I just don't understand memorabilia, and especially cable reality show memorabilia, which has to be the lowest form. I love

Project Runway, but owning one of these dresses is like buying a more cumbersome version of the scalpel that Pam from The Real World: San Francisco used to complete her medical residency. What happens after you get the tree-trunk dress in the mail? Do you have it enshrined in a glass case, a la Planet Hollywood, and mount it on your wall? Do you put it on a mannequin in the corner of your apartment, so that every time someone comes over you have to explain, "Oh, that. Did you watch Project Runway 3? Anyway, that's the dress that got the Taiwan-bred vampire guy kicked off." Or, knowing that its value diminishes with each passing day, do you immediately sell the dress on eBay to people even more pathetic than you? What does everyone else think?